A Pagan of the Hills | Page 8

whole vitality and clean vigor of her seemed breathless and questioning. Fear had spurred her into fleetness as she had crossed the hills, yet now she hesitated on the threshold. At first her eyes could make little of the inner murk, where both lamp and fire had guttered low and gray shadows held dominance.
But she herself stood illumined by that transitory flash of morning sun. It played in an aura about the coppery coils of her hair and kindled into vivid color the lips parted in suspense.
After a moment her eyes had reaccommodated themselves to the dispiriting darkness and her bosom heaved to a sigh of relief; of thanksgiving. Under the heaped coverlets of the bed she had seen the movement of feeble hand stirred in a gesture of welcome.
The neighbor women, bent on a mission of charity, yet unable to lay aside their hard convictions, gazed non-committally on, as though they would draw aside their skirts from contamination, yet sought to do so with the least possible measure of ostentation or offense.
That attitude Alexander did not fail to comprehend but she ignored it, giving back to the smouldering eyes of disapproval level look for look. Then she said quietly: "Brother Sanders, kin I hev speech with him--or must he lay plum quiet?"
The man of healing passed a bewildered hand across his tousled forehead, and with thin fingers combed his long beard.
"He ought, properly speakin', ter stay quiet--but yit--he's frettin' fer ye so thet hit mought harm him wuss ter deny him."
"I'll aim ter keep him es placid es I kin," said the girl, and in obedience to her gesture the others left the room.
Then Alexander dropped to her knees and her hands closed tightly over the thin one that the wounded man thrust weakly up to her. Even now there was no woman-surrender to tears; only wide eyes agonized with apprehension while her shoulders shook as a man's may shake with inward sobs that leave the eyes dry.
In a low voice she made her report. "Ther dam's finished. Without ther flood overtops ther highest mark on record, them logs is saved."
Old Aaron nodded gratefully and gazed in silence at the rafters overhead, realizing that he must conserve his slender strength and that there was much to say. The girl, too, waited until at length he made a fresh beginning.
"Afore ye came, Alexander, me an' yore maw hed done prayed mighty fervent fer a man child."
"I knows thet," she interrupted. "I knows hit full well, an' I've sought deespite how I was borned ter be a man."
"Ye hain't only tried--ye've done succeeded," he assured her, then after a long drawn breath he went on. "Most folks 'lowed hit was like faultin' ther Almighty ter feel thet-a-way. They said hit war plum rebellious."
The girl whose cheeks had gone pallid and whose lips were tight drawn spoke defiantly. "I reckon we hain't keerin' overly much what other folks thinks."
"An' yit," the father made slow answer, "what folks agrees ter think makes ther laws of life whether hit be right or wrong--I'd hev been willin' ter raise ye up like a gal ef hit hadn't been thet Joe----"
He faltered there with Love's unwillingness to criticise his son and the girl only nodded, saying nothing.
"Joe's a good boy, with a sweet nature," went on the father at last. "He favors his maw--an' she was always gentle. Yes, he's a good boy--an' in a country whar a feller kin live without fightin', I reckon he'd be accounted smart beyond ther commonality."
Again the mountaineer's face was contorted into a spasm of pain and his labored breathing demanded a respite of silence. Then slowly he declared with the unvarnished candor of the backwoods: "Joe's got all a man needs--but--jest--guts!"
The kneeling figure reluctantly nodded her assent. These admissions as to one's nearest and dearest must at times be made between men who face facts.
"Ef I passes out, I wants ye ter kinderly look atter him like he ought ter look atter you."
A stray lock of heavy hair had fallen across the girl's violet eyes, and with an impatient gesture at the reminder of her sex, Alexander tossed it back. "I gives ye my pledge," she said simply.
Then she rose from her knees and stood looking off through the window with a fixity that argued a deep dedication of purpose. "An' I pledges ye somethin' else too," she broke out in a voice suddenly savage. "Ef ye dies Bud Sellers belongs ter me ter kill--an' I won't nowise fail."
But at that the wounded man raised a deter rent hand shaken with palsied anxiety.
"No--no!" he gasped. "Thet's ther sperit I've done sought ter combat all my life--ther shot from ther la'rel--ther lay-wayin' of enemies. I couldn't rest easy ef ye denied me that pledge."
Alexander's hands clenched themselves, and her lips